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OUR BENNY 



OUR BENNY 



BY 

MARY E. WALLER 

Author of " The Wood-carver of 'Lympus 



BOSTON 

LITTLE, BROWN, AND COMPANY 

1909 



LISP.ARY of CONGRESS 
Two Copies RecervMl 

FEB 5 1909 

CopyriKiit tntry 
CLASS CX, X.\C. 1^0 



Copyright, 1909, 
By Mary E. Waller. 






All rights reserved. 



Published February 12, 1909 



Electrotyped and Printed at 
THE COLONIAL PRESS: 
C. H. Simonds CS. Co., Boston. U .S.A. 



0* TO 

THE PEOPLE OF ILLINOIS AND KENTUCKY 
IN MEMORY OP 

ABRAHAM LINCOLN 



DIVISIONS OF THE POEM 

PAGE 

I The Coming of the Letter . . .11 

II Salus Patriae 25 

III Hannah and Agatha .... 53 

IV Lincoln 71 

V Peace 87 



PEOPLE OF THE POEM 

Gbanther 

Hannah, his Daughter 

Benny, her Son 

Agatha, her Niece 

The Parson 

The Dominie 

The Miller 

Time, March — April, 1865 
Place, A Village in Vermont 



I 

THE COMING OF THE LETTER 



OUR BENNY 



THE COMING OF THE LETTER 

" Strange how the frosts of our winter 

get into the bones of us old folks! 
Here I be nigh on to eighty, yet play second 

fiddle to no one, 
When, in the height of the summer, I work 

side by side with the reapers. 
Or, later on, at the huskin' I fill the deep 

bins near to burstin'. 

Let it come freezin' o' nights though, an* 

thawin' right smart every midday, 
13 



OUR BENNY 

Let a crow call from the woodlot an' sap 

freely run from our maples, 
Then, as I sit by the fire a-nursin' my 

knees in the gloamin', 
Suddenly falleth the hoar-frost an' chills 

me clean through to the marrow. 
Hannah, 'tis then that I envy our boy on 

the distant Potomac." 
Thereupon answered the housewife, and 

turned to look over her shoulder 
Toward the old Windsor chair and the 

yet sturdy form patriarchal: 
*' Really, father, I think you would shoulder 

my granther's old musket. 
Were you but three score and ten, and be 

off to the war with our Benny, 

Just for the purpose of saying you still hold 

your own with the young folks." 
14 



THE COMING OF THE LETTER 

Lightly she spoke, but the tears were nearer 

the surface than laughter ; 
Sighing she kneaded her loaves, while 

drowning her sighs in a clatter — 
Rattling the pans and the bread-tray and 

making to-do out of nothing. 
Thinking to cover her woe from the keen, 

watchful eyes of her father. 
Quickly perceiving her wile, he bespoke her 

both gently and wisely: 
'* Surely to-night brings a letter; I'm 

thinkin' he'll have much to tell us: 
News from headquarters direct an', per- 
haps, of the inauguration. 
Likely enough our good parson an', mebbe, 

the teacher'U drop in here 

Soon as they know, for a certain, we've had 

our first letter from Benny. 
15 



OUR BENNY 

Agatha'U spread the good news much 
faster'n a bush fire can travel — 

Seems if I heard her a-comin'; it sounds 
like her foot on the gravel." 



Then of a sudden the door, with creaking 

and strain of its hinges. 
Opened full width in the kitchen and let 

in the chill wind of springtime; 
Let in the feeble white sunshine and, with 

it, so fresh in her beauty. 
Glowing in radiant youth and warm with 

the quick blood of girlhood, 
Agatha, waving the letter and crying aloud 

her rejoicing: 

"Oh, dear Aunt Hannah, it's come! — 

And now you will breathe again freely. 
16 



THE COMING OF THE LETTER 

See it, how pudgy and fat ! — like a manu- 
script, leastwise it feels so; 

Parson and dominie both are coming to 
share in our pleasure, 

Even the miller was saying — " But here 
the old man interrupted: 

*' Agatha, ever your tongue, like a mill- 
clapper runneth unceasin', 

Deafenin' when one would listen. Come, 
Hannah, make haste with the readin'.*' 



Into the face of the mother flashed joy and 

anticipation 
Trembling in firmly-set lips and quivering 

long in the eyelids. 

Carefully over the bread-board — 'twas 

laden with loaves for the rising — 
17 



OUR BENNY 

Snowy white linen she folded with some- 
what elaborate caution — 
Seeking more strength in deception and time 

to control her emotion. 
*' Now we will read it," she said, and, 

taking her seat on the settle, 
Opened it; laid on the cushions each sheet 

of the close-written letter. 
Till from the innermost leaflet, there 

fluttered two three-cornered missives. 
Mother was written on one (the paper 

beneath showed a blister), 
Agatha's own was the other; 'twas laden 

with scent of the jasmine. 
Close in her toil-worn hand, the mother 

guarded her message; 
Agatha, biding her time, thrust hers, when 

unseen, in her bosom. 

18 



THE COMING OF THE LETTER 

Then with expectance the three, with 
smiles and words of approval, 

Read, each in turn, the epistle — thrice 
over in special instalments; 

Noting a quip now and then, a description 
of places or people, 

Marking a page for the parson, a para- 
graph, too, for the miller; 

Reading again and again, until dusk over- 
taken; then lamplight 

Gleamed from the windows adown the 
steep highroad that leads to the village. 



*' Beats all how Benny remembers," said 

Granther, rising abruptly, 

*' Nary a neighbor forgotten throughout 

our Green Mountain village, 
19 



OUR BENNY 

Women, nor children, nor girls, nor man — 

nor beast, for that matter! 
Here I be settin* around, a-gawpin' an* 

starin' at nothin' ; 
Nary a chore have I done, an' the hens 

gone to roost 'fore 'twas sundown; 
Brindle an' Bessie unmilked an' a-lowin' 

to beat all creation. 
Nary a stick in the woodbox, Hannah, an' 

cookin' an' bakin' 
Goin' on just afore supper — it beats all, I 

say, how forgetful 
Eighty has made me! " He reached for the 

milkpails, down-turned on the dresser. 
Reached for the stout wooden yoke, hanging 

slack from a hook in the corner, 
Muttering still, as he passed to the wood- 
shed where hung the old lantern, 
20 



THE COMING OF THE LETTER 

Fretfully over his chores; he was wearied 
with all the unwonted 

Fusion of thought and of feeling, occasioned 
by Benny's first letter. 

Smiling, the girl and the woman turned each 
to her home occupation : 

Agatha laying the table and Hannah pre- 
paring the supper. 

Well could they both understand, for hearts 
can most surely interpret, 

Plaint and vexation alike; they gave to his 
loneliness voice. 



Out in the barn and the barnyard the 

octogenarian pothered, 

Making his usual rounds among the sheep 

and the cattle; 

21 



OUR BENNY 

Giving to each and to all the provident 

food and the bedding, 
Speaking to one and another as if the dumb 

brutes were mere humans 
Instinct with love and devotion, with courage 

and loyal persistence. 
Flashing his lantern, he went, athwart the 

wide stalls and the mangers 
Where stood the deep-breathing cattle, the 

horses nosing their fodder; 
Looked at the emptying hay-mows, and 

wondered whether the harvest, 
Filling with plenty the barn, would reach 

this year to the raftern; 
Fastened the doors for the night and, 

barring the gate of the sheep-pen, 

Stood for a moment thereafter, his wrinkled 

forehead uplifted, 
22 



THE COMING OF THE LETTER 

Feeling the way of the wind ; he scented the 

big thaw impending. 
Slowly he turned to the farmhouse and 

entered the old-fashioned kitchen, 
Cheerful with lamplight and fire, and 

fragrant with bread from the oven. 



23 



II 

SALUS PATRIAE 



II 

SALUS PATRIAE 

** Not in the seats of the mighty, nor yet in 
the chambers of council 

Find we the sources, the well-springs, of 
national life and its leadings. 

No, but on high in the mountains, on water- 
sheds' forested ridges; 

No, but abroad on the prairies where root- 
lets of corn spring the earth-clods; 

No, but deep down in the cisterns, beneath 
the rough breakage of subsoil — 

There we may find the true sources, the 

feeders of public opinion, 

27 



OUR BENNY 

Varied in sound and in form as the steam 

and the rain and the crystal ; 
All of an essence the three, yet different 

as to expression, — 
Coming from furrow and glebeland, the 

quarry, the mine, and the furnace — 
Each in itself so benign when subserving 

the national welfare." 



Thus to his friends spoke the parson, when, 
climbing the hill-road together 

Up toward the clear-shining lamplight that 
sent forth its beam from the farmhouse, 

Miller and dominie, both, began in a mood 
disputatious. 

Freely to air their opinions on subjects of 

greatest importance, 

28 



SALUS PATRIAE 

Waxing full wroth, as they talked, with the 
Government, laws, and their makers. 

Then 'twas the parson protested, and, laying 
a hand on each shoulder. 

Utterance gave to these words which re- 
called them to sense and to reason. 

Well did he know his companions — their 
angles and humors and crotchets — 

Knew them and loved them right well, for 
sound to the core was the kernel. 



Straightway the miller made answer, ** 'Tis 
true; I confess your words shame me; 

Ever I'm mixin' my chaff with the wheat of 
our good constitution. 

Ever forgettin' that I, too, uphold it and 

share with all others 

29 



OUR BENNY 

That which has been to our country as 

bread of life to the Hvin'. 
Often I laugh to myself, as I picture the 

mill-wheels of Congress 
Grindin' away at the laws we home folks 

must furnish the grist for. 
Yes, and the water-power both — without 

gettin' thanks for it either! 
Still you are right 'bout the ' feeders ' ; I 

see plain enough what's my duty: 
Thirty-two quarts to the bushel; the old 

mill kep' at it a-goin' 
Right through the twenty-four hours, as long 

as the boys need the fodder. 
Ben, now — " He stopped, with his foot on 

the scraper, to listen intently, — 

'* Hark, what a voice! like a bird's; a 

thrush gives us nothin' much sweeter. 
30 



SALUS PATRIAE 

Surely all's well with our Benny, or Agatha 

wouldn't be singin'. 
When she has finished we'll give a surprise, 

and call for a — What is 't ? 
Wliat do you call it ? " " An encore," the 

dominie answered; '* Now listen! " 



Thy mountain peaks, dear Land, shall 

brighten 
With freedom's fires from sea to sea. 
The shadows in thy valleys lighten 
Till all the world shall look to thee. 



Thy bastioned mountains stand like towers 

To guard our homes from sea to sea; 

Thy Freedom's watchmen call the hours. 

And bid us hope eternally. 
31 



OUR BENNY 

We hope! — The dawn of freedom breaketh 
O^er all the eartJi from sea to sea; 
Thou art the pioneer who maheth. 
Dear Land, a home for all the free. 



Baring their heads, and in silence, the 

dominie, parson, and miller 
Listened just under the window; they feared 

to lose of that message 
Even a word, for it spoke to their patriot 

hearts, and emotion 
Momently held them in thrall. The song 

died away in the kitchen. 
Followed a resonant knock, a scraping and 

stamping of cowhides. 

Echoed at once by a joyful " Oh! " and 

within a commotion; 
32 



SALUS PATRIAE 

Wide flew the door to admit them; the 
welcome was triune that met them. 



" Come for that letter of Ben's, eh ? 'Tis 
well worth the climb from the village. 

Agatha, draw up the chairs. I'll set right 
here on the settle — 

Never a better place made to discuss the 
affairs of the nation, 

Also this letter from Benny. Come, Han- 
nah, produce the epistle. 

Agatha, set here by me and read 'bout the 
inauguration." 

Thus spoke the grandsire, rejoicing, renew- 
ing his youth in the present 

Pride and delight in his grandson, who 

" kept up the name " of his fathers : 
33 



OUR BENNY 

Seven generations of men, the sinew and 
bone of New England! 

Proudly the girl read the lines about the 
inaugural message: 

" * Oh, had you seen him, dear people of 
mine, as he stood there, bareheaded. 

Facing the throng that had filled all the 
Capitol's eastern approaches! 

Could you have heard him deliver that mes- 
sage so fraught with deep meaning — 

Wisdom condensed of the ages, at least, 
so it seemed at that moment. 

Black was the square beneath him; close- 
pressed stood the thousands of people; 

Every face was upturned and every eye was 
on Lincoln. 

Black overhead in the heavens the cloud- 
wrack was scudding to southward, 
34 



SALUS PATRIAE 

Blotting the sunshine from sight and casting 

a gloom universal. 
Oh, how the listening people were longing 

just then for an omen, 
Promise of light and of life — a symbol of 

" health for our nation," 
(Dominie knows what I mean), when, just 

as he spoke those immortal 
Words for all ages: With malice towards 

none, the cloud-wrack in flying 
Parted, and through the deep rift a sunbeam 

glanced straight as an arrow 
Slantwise on Lincoln's bare head, and rested 

thereon for a second. 
Oh, 'twas a joy to us all! A sigh, like the 

wind through our pine trees. 

Rose to the lips of those thousands and 

breathed itself forth as a prayer — 
35 



OUR BENNY 

Would you had lived it! Oh, mother, that 
moment was worth being born for! ' '* 



Only the click of the needles, as Hannah 

kept on with her knitting, 
Made itself heard in the silence. Agatha 

broke it: " Now, listen! 
Here is a message for you; " she turned to 

the dominie leaning 
Forward and half off his chair — he was 

nursing first one knee then t'other : — 
" * Tell my dear dominie pal that, at night, 

when I'm out doing sentry. 
Nearly asleep and dead-tired from digging 

all day the entrenchments. 

Often I spout to myself half a hundred lines 

of old Homer — 
36 



SALUS PATRIAE 

Tell him I'll bet three to one he knows 

what's my favorite passage; 
Little he thought it would help me to keep 

wide-awake on my sentry ! ' " 

*' He's got the grit, though, our Benny," 
the grandsire chuckled approving; 

'* Back in his boyhood he slept like a log, 
and hard 'twas to wake him. 

Many a time I've seen Hannah a-sousin' 
his face with cold water! " 

*' Luckily Ben was a student," the dominie 

spoke midst the laughter; 
" Took to his Greek just as easy as ever a 

duck takes to water; 

Latin he made just a play of, and fought 

through all Caesar's great battles 
37 



OUR BENNY 

Over and over again with the boys till they 

struck, and declared 
Roundly to me they would play at recess 

no longer with Caesar." 
Twirling the key on his watch-chain — the 

symbol of Phi Beta Kappa — 
Thoughtful he grew as he added : " This key 

stands for power through attainment; 
Made for a lock that will open the door to 

earnest endeavor. 
Many a time the boy asked me to give him 

the real explanation, 
Wherefore the letters S P — he was curious 

as to their meaning. 
* Wait, only wait,' I would say, ' until you 

yourself shall have worn it, 
Tlien you will know ' — but, ah me ! even 

now he is valiantly learning 

38 



SALUS PATRIAE 

All its significant beauty of truth, througli 

a deed sacrificial, 
Learning the values of life and of living, 

by doing his duty. 
Hannah, I envy your boy down there on 

the distant Potomac.'* 



Thereupon answered the mother, while 

pausing a moment in knitting: 
" No need to envy my boy. Who can say 

where to-night he is sleeping ? 
Not as you think by that river. See, here, 

in a postscript he tells us : 
* Monday we move farther southward.' 

Just look at the date of this letter 

Written full two weeks ago, and delayed all 

this time in dehv'ry! 
39 



OUR BENNY 

Who can foresee what has happened mean- 
while ? " She took up her knitting. 

*' Never say die! '* cried the miller, thus 
hoping, in his way, to cheer her; 

** Long as we've got Abram Lincoln, this 
nation won't go to perdition. 

He'll see us through in good season, he and 
our staunch Constitution; 

Both on 'em sound to the core, nor rust 
nor mildew can blight 'em. . . . 

Speak to her, parson," he whispered, '* con- 
sole her with words of assurance." 



" Hannah," the parson said gently, " I 

fear I can speak but cold comfort 

Unto your motherly heart — we men can 

never be mothers ; 
40 



SALUS PATRIAE 

But let me say what I feel, that out of this 

struggle and trial — 
Death-throes or birth-throes, whichever they 

may be, these weeks must deter- 
mine — 
We, you and I, indeed all, our brothers in 

arms, and our country, 
Northland and Southland alike, shall issue 

the nobler the better. 
Ready with hand and with heart to further 

our national welfare. 
Benny is doing his share right manfully, as 

it behooves him — 
Hannah, the rest we will leave with Him 

whose time is not ours." 



That makes me think," said the dominie, 

fumbling about in his pockets, 
41 



OUR BENNY 

Ransacking notebook and wallet, " I've 
written a few lines expressing 

Something to that same effect — and it may 
be you might like to hear them ? " 

Promptly the miller responded : *' Out with 
it! I know it's worth hearin'." 

Then with a diffident *' Hem! " as a prep- 
aration for reading, 

Holding the sheet neath the lamplight, he 
said, half apologetic: 

" Rhythm and rhyme should agree I 
acknowledge both fully and frankly ; 

Shifting of accents, indeed, I never permit 
to my pupils 

Nor to myself; only once in a while I 
make an exception 

When a good rhyme, that I like, falls sac- 
rifice to an idea — " 
42 



SALUS PATRIAE 

"Come, that's enough!" cried the miller; 

*' it's just the idees that we're 

wantin'." 
Smiling, the dominie read to his audience 

small, but approving: 

America, thy praise I sing! 

Thy brawny arms the blessings bring 

Of love and life and loyalty: 

They fell the forest, blast the hill. 

They pile the granite, fill the till, 

They dig and delve with right good will — 

The very pledge of loyalty. 

Nor shall thy brows remain uncrowned; 

We sing thy praise the wide earth round. 

But when these hands to toil inured 

From out the scabbard draw the sword 
43 



OUR BENNY 

To '* seek for peace in liberty "; 

Then let the stroke be quick and strong 

That right may ever conquer wrong. 

That might may ne'er make right, so long 

As men " seek peace in liberty. ^^ 

When brothers* strength with brothers* 

mates. 
The blood that floweth consecrates. 

Ay, consecrates this Land of ours 

To nobler use of nobler powers 

For service to Humanity. 

The sword to ploughshare shall be ground, 

And earth with plenty shall abound. 

The mine shall yield the whole year round 

In service to Humanity; 

And brain, and muscle, hand, and heart. 

Each do for thee, our Land, its part. 

44 



SALUS PATRIAE 

" That's the right ring," cried the miller; 

and " Good! " said the parson, " we'll 

print it." 
Agatha, woman-like, flattered the poet by 

begging a copy. 
Saying she'd send it to Benny as part of 

the lengthy round-robin 
Ready to go on the morrow from all his 

young friends and well-wishers. 
Hannah alone made no comment, but ever 

her needles clicked faster. 
Proof of an inward excitement and feelings 

that needed expression. 
Stopping a moment in order to count up her 

stitches in '* heeling," 
Knitting and needles she dropped in her 
lap; and her heart, overburdened, 



45 



OUR BENNY 

Vented itself in her words that rushed forth 

in a surcharge of feehng: 
" What can you know, all you men, what we 

women, we mothers must suffer? 
What to a woman bereft, is glory, or fame, 

or ambition ? 
Often, before Benny left me, I used to lie 

hour after hour 
Sleepless from sorrow and trouble — my 

heart was like lead in my bosom 
Just at the thought of those others, those 

mothers afar in the Southland, 
Women who've given their all, their hus- 
bands, their sons and their brothers, 
Even as we who have sacrificed that which 

is drawn from our life's blood. 

Only 'tis worse for our sisters, those stricken 

ones down in the Southland, 
46 



SALUS PATRIAE 

Caught in the whirlpool of war, all its waves 

and its billows pass o'er them. 
Many a hearthstone is cold, the mistress 

and children in hiding; 
Many a lintel is sprinkled with blood, but no 

passover Angel 
Spareth the darling firstborn! And while 

at the North we're in safety, 
Many a battle is fought, almost, as it were, 

at their thresholds. 
Oh, they are heroines all! and sore is my 

heart with their bruising, 
Dreadful, too dreadful their fate — Oh, I 

don't understand it! " Appealing 
Straight to the parson she spoke: " How 

can you, how can you explain it ? 
Think of the prayers that are rising at this 

very minute to heaven! 

47 



OUR BENNY 

All this great country of ours like a Rachel, 

forlorn among nations, 
Mourneth uncomforted day after day, and 

the sound of her wailing 
Filleth the earth. Yes, from dark until 

dawn, from morning till evening 
Women are crying to Him for their loved 

ones, for help, for deliv'rance. 
Wrestling in anguish of soul as once they 

have wrestled in body 
Wlien a strong man-child they bore in 

pain and convulsion of travail — 
Bore him for this! Oh, I tell you it almost 
makes me a sceptic ..." 



** Hannah, my daughter, be still," said her 

father, commanding, yet pleading; 

48 



SALUS PATRIAE 

*' Benny would go like the others; the rest 

is 'twixt him and his Maker. 
Surely 'tis in the boy's blood ; he's descended 

from three generations 
Ready to fight for their country if only peace 

was the issue. 
Look! here's the musket I carried when 

fightin' the British at Plattsburg; 
See on the wall just above it my granther's 

old flintlock; he bore it 
When for the birth of this nation he gave 

both his life and his substance. 
Fought in the patriot ranks — yes, fought 

till he fell there, a hero 
Fightin' on patriot soil, the soil of our dear 

old Virginny! 

Agatha, fetch me the button — 'tis in the tin 

box on the dresser — 
49 



OUR BENNY 

See, here the arms of Great Britain, a 
remnant of coat with the button : 

Grandfather's father's, 'twas worn when he 
fell at Quebec, duly cherished 

Year after year by his children, and children 
of three generations. 

Chip of the old block is Benny ; what's bred 
in the bone, you know, Hannah — " 

" Yes, yes, I know," she made answer 
impatient, while lighting her candle; 

** Know it far better than you, for my heart 
is filled with foreboding — " 

Quickly she bade them good-night; her 
step could be heard on the stairway 

Laggard and heavy, for trouble was weight- 
ing her feet as it weighted 

Leaden her motherly heart that was seeking 

in vain for some comfort. 
50 



SALUS PATRIAE 

Smiling, indulgent, her father appealed to 

his guests just departing: 
** That is the way with all women, God bless 

'em! 'Tis 'gainst their whole nater 
Calmly to look at a thing through the eyes 

of us men, without reading 
Into the head-lines of life a trouble of some 

kind or 'nother. 
Hannah is worried, I see, about the receipt 

of this letter 
Late in the day, to be sure, but later is 

better than never. 
Wait till the second one comes; quite a 

different tune she'll be singin', 
Somethin' like Agatha's here! " And 

Agatha, laughing, responded 

Joyously clear and elate, and aware of the 

note in her bosom: 
51 



OUR BENNY 

*' Nor will there lack invitation for all these 

good neighbors, I'll warrant; 
You who have shared in our joy, you surely 

will come for the second ? " 
" Ay, we will come, rest assured," the 

dominie's cheery voice answered, 
Adding a word 'neath his breath: " God 

bless her, and pity the mother! " 
" Neighbors, good-night," said the miller; 

*' 'tis thawin' right fast, and I'm thinkin' 
Mornin' will show us bare ground and the 

ice goin' out of the river." 
Hearty the handclasp and fervent the words 

from the parson: " God bless thee. 
Thee and thy household; good-night." The 

three took their way to the village 

Just as the nine o'clock bell was ringing 

the New England curfew. 
52 



Ill 

HANNAH AND AGATHA 



ni 

HANNAH AND AGATHA 

Agatha sought her own nest, the low- 
studded room with the dormer; 

Maidenly white were its curtains, its cover- 
let woven with cunning, 

Product of grandmother's loom, its pattern 
was known as the " basket "; 

White, too, the jflooring well-scoured with 
finest of sand from the river. 

Dimity covered the bureau, and green- 
painted rush-bottom chairs 

Stood 'gainst the walls in due order, refresh- 
ing the eye with their greenness, 
55 



OUR BENNY 

Matcliing the apple-tree boughs that shaded 

the dormer in summer. 
Loosing the plaits of her hair, that fell to 

the hem of her garment, 
Rippling in golden-brown waves 'neath the 

candle-gleam's flicker and flaring. 
Quickly she drew from her bodice the 

three-cornered letter from Benny; 
Knelt by the bed, not in prayer, but to read 

the few lines from her soldier 
Lover, as yet undeclared; — oh, well did 

she know that he loved her! 
And, as she read, half in fear at the pas- 
sionate, loyal, outpouring. 
Quick-welling words from the depths of a 

soul that was conscious of manhood. 

There on her knees she remained, adroop 

'neath the weight of her joy. 
56 



HANNAH AND AGATHA 

Stammering words of a prayer — 'twas love 

slie commingled with worship — 
Fell unaware from her lips ere she rose 

from her knees by that bedside. 
Candle-gleam flickered and flared, and 

sputtered at last in the socket. 
Then in the darkness she lay, her face on 

the pillow upturning, 
Into the darkness upsmiling, and dreamed 

waking dreams of the future. 
Sleep-overtaken at last, she still held the note 

in her keeping; 
Over her bosom it lay, her left hand was 

clasping it closely. 
Sleep is for girlhood aild joy, but not for 

the mother o'er-burdened. 

Anxious and weary and worn, her heart with 

its tenderness bursting! 
57 



OUR BENNY 

Buried in thought, long she sat in her bed- 
room over the kitchen, 
Reading with slow-dripping tears a-rain 

on her own precious message; 
Read, and re-lived in her thoughts the days 

since her Benny enlisted; 
Sighed 'twixt her tears as she read what he 

wrote about fame and Old Glory — 
Fame ? O thou breath of a moment that 

passes our lips as in sighing! 
Manhood's young dream, ere its prime hath 

burned seven times in the furnace 
Heated seven times by the tempering fires 

of experience dire! 
Rising, for ten was just striking, she opened 

her well-worn Bible; 
Laid the dear missive within it, just over 

that one simple passage 

.58 



HANNAH AND AGATHA 

Pregnant with Life's deepest meanings for 
us as for past generations, 

Future as well, for our love remains death- 
less and human is human 

Always and ever : — the only son of his 
mother, a widow; 

Laid herself down in her bed, whereon she 
had brought forth her man-child 

Twenty short years before — and now ! 
She wept on her pillow. 

Wholly forsaken by sleep she lay for a 
while in the darkness, 

Picturing battle and bivouac, hearing the 
crackle of camp-fires. 

Footfalls of sentries a-pace, the quick- 
ringing ** Halt! " and the challenge. 

Once, as she lifted her head, it seemed as if 

booming of cannon, 
59 



OUR BENNY 

Borne on the rain-laden wind, had come to 
her ears from the Southland ! 

Raising herself on her elbow she listened 
intent to that booming . . . 

No, 'twas the ice in the river, upheaving, 
slow-crushing and grinding, 

Mingled with rushing of waters that broke 
from the ice-chains of winter! 

Wrapping herself in a shawl, she went to 
the half -opened window. 

Leaned to look down toward the valley, 
to hear from its depths the dull thunder 

Booming with splintering crash : the break- 
ing up of the river. 

Lo! as she looked, as she listened, she saw 
a light flash on the highroad! 

Steadily upwards it moved; like a glow- 
worm it crawled through the darkness; 
60 



HANNAH AND AGATHA 

Nearer and nearer it came — she heard 
through the uproar a wagon 

Jolting up over the bar, the crunching of 
wheels on the gravel. 

Leaning out into the night — her heart 
thrilled with strong premonition, 

Kjiowing her hour had come — she called : 
" Who is there ? " and the parson 

Sprang to the ground 'neath her window, 
and answered prompt to her calling : 

" Hannah, it's I — I have come with a mes- 
sage. Make haste with your dressing; 

Urgent the need for us both to leave on the 
last train at midnight." 

Waiting, impatient, he listened for move- 
ment and stir in the household, 

Counting the minutes as hours till flashed 

a light in the kitchen, 
61 



OUR BENNY 

Candle-light gleamed in the dormer — 
he heard some one coming and going. 

Drawing the bolt the old grandsire cau- 
tiously opened the door. 

Saw who it was and admitted his friend, but 
asked him no questions. 

Reached for his spectacle-case, and held out 
his hand for the message. 

Crumpled and yellow and torn: a word 
straight from hell for the loving; 

Read it at first without comment, while 
holding it near to the lamplight: 

Ben to be shot — found asleep on his sentry — 
must notify Hannah. 

Read it again; then, there burst from the 
lips of the grandsire: ** Damn him! 

Serves him just right for forgettin' his 

father's good name and his duty! " 
62 



HANNAH AND AGATHA 

Impotent rage swelled the veins so shrunken 

and blue in his temples, 
Horror of grief and disgrace was voiced in 

that oath and its meaning; 
But at the sounds overhead, of hurrying 

feet on the stairway, 
Knowing 'twas Hannah, his daughter, he 

staggered, muttered " 'Twill kill her," 
Caught at the powerful arm that was round 

him, supporting, upholding 
E'en as the strength of the woodman is 

braced 'gainst the oak that is falling. 
Sudden collapse overcame him; he sank, 

as if stricken with palsy. 
Into his old Windsor chair and shrivelled to 

age at that moment, 
Bowed 'neath the frost that was killing the 

youth, whom he loved, in his springtime. 
63 



OUR BENNY 

*' Father," 'twas Hannah who spoke as she 

entered full dressed for her journey, 
Agatha following closely, her blue eyes 

wide-staring in terror, 
" Give me the message I beg you; already 

I've guessed at its meaning. 
Hearing that oath and that judgment — I 

heard it e'en through the partition." 
" No, daughter Hannah, 'twill kill you," he 

murmured, withholding the paper. 
Quick, with a gesture impatient, she seized 

it, she tore out its meaning. 
Swayed for a second! That shot might 

have pierced her own bosom. 
Turning as if into stone, no tremor in face 

or in figure. 
Rigid she stood for a moment, as rigid as 

ever the noble 

64 



HANNAH AND AGATHA 

Granite-ribbed hills of Vermont from the soil 

of which she was nourished. 
" Agatha, I must be going; be brave for 

the sake of my father. 
Father, I'm going to plead for my boy, 

there's — time, yet, I'm hoping — 
Abraham Lincoln alone can speak the word 

of salvation; 
Straightway to him I am going; he'll hear 

the prayer of a widow. 
Come, I must go; our good friend here, I 

know, will go with me — don't worry. 
Agatha, see to the house and to father; the 

neighbors will help you. ..." 
Over the well-worn threshold the two passed 

out into the darkness, 
Darkness that made itself felt in a night 

that was cloudy and starless. 
65 



OUR BENNY 

Down the rough road to the village, the 

wagon jolted and rattled. 
Flashing its lights on the highway, the 

lantern swung from the axle. 



Dawn in the farmhouse, at last, for the two 

weary watchers for morning! 
Light of the coming dawn, and Agatha 

laying the table, 
Steadfast as ever in duty and care for the 

things of the household. 
Quietly hither and yon she goes from pantry 

to table; 
Sets out the pails for the milking and mixes 

the meal for the chickens; 

Opens the door of the kitchen and looks 

to the eastern horizon. 
66 



HANNAH AND AGATHA 

During that horror of midnight, of hours 

that were never forgotten, 
Girlhood had fled her forever; a woman 

stood on the threshold 
Whence she looked forth to a life as drear 

as the mountains around her. 
Spring frosts had touched her, and blighted 

forever her youth and its gladness. 
All through the night time her thoughts had 

been travelling steadily southward: 
Down the Connecticut Valley, that leads 

through the heart of the Bay State, 
Out to the Sound and the sea, through the 

tumult of populous cities. 
Over the marshes of Jersey, the Delaware's 

flood-swollen waters. 
Over an arm of the Bay and straight to the 

sluggish Potomac — 

67 



OUR BENNY 

E'en to the doors of the White House; but 
penetrate farther she could not. 

Now, as she stood on the threshold, without 
either willing or wishing. 

Back flew her thoughts from their roaming, 
like birds homing straight to the moun- 
tains. 

Over against the horizon, brightening swiftly 
to sunrise, 

Dark stood those mountains, impassive, 
unwitting of human life's sorrow, 

Motionless sentries, forever they guarded the 
Gates of the Morning 

Whence, as she gazed through her tears, 
the cloud-portals opening swiftly. 

Issued the life-giving sun in a splendor of 
radiant glory! 



68 



HANNAH AND AGATHA 

Hour after hour dragged its length till the 

afternoon of that morrow; 
Then e'en the minutes seemed hours alter- 
nate of hope and despair. 
Half of the village was gathered around the 

door of the station. 
Talking, to ease their suspense, of the pros- 
pect of favoring verdict. 
Just before sunset it came, with flash and 

click o'er the wires. 
Straight from the heart of the Nation, from 

Washington on the Potomac: 
Saved — and the air was rent with a mighty 

shout of rejoicing; 
Up from the valley it rolled ; the wind bore 

the sound to the farmhouse. 



69 



TV 
LINCOLN 



IV 

LINCOLN 

** Only seven days, as the almanac shows, 

since we left and yet, truly, 
Sometimes it seems a whole lifetime, ay, 

more, an eternity even. 
Heaven conjoined with hell I have lived 

through this week," said the parson, 
Taking his seat on the settle; ** we scarce 

could have thought of a Sabbath 
Breaking like this on a week of continual 

storm and upheaval. 

Surely a day like the present brings with it 

a true benediction: 
73 



OUR BENNY 

Nature's own peace we hear speaking Be 
still to our soul's troubled waters. 

See, through the half -opened door, how the 
river, in spate, down the valley 

Glideth majestic and free! Not a trace of 
that terrible turmoil 

Raging within its wild flood when we left — 
it reminds me of Lincoln." 

Silent he gazed on the river, yet saw not; 
his keen inner vision. 

Fixed on the things of the spirit, was pic- 
turing Abraham Lincoln 

Such as he saw him revealed through a heart 
that was tender and mighty. 

Reading his thoughts in their course, the 
dominie urged him, insistent: 

" Tell us of him, I entreat, how he brought 

about Benny's salvation." 

74 



LINCOLN 

" Yes, I will tell you, for here in my heart 

every word is engraven. 
Time was so precious ! A few minutes only 

we stood in his presence 
Laying the case and its adjuncts, so bare and 

pathetic, before him. 
Listening with head as with heart, he 

grasped the entire situation; 
Ever his eye was on Hannah who stood like 

a statue, scarce breathing, 
Waiting in torment of hope for Abraham 

Lincoln's decision. 
Then, with a kindly, deliberate gesture, he 

moved a step nearer. 
Held out his hands to us both ('twas 

Hannah clutched his as the drowning 

Catch at a life-line ; but I — I felt strangely 

uplifted, ennobled, 
75 



OUR BENNY 

Thrilled by the touch of a hand that was 

guiding the course of our Nation!), 
While, in a voice that was tender as ever 

a woman's, he gave back 
Benny to Hannah : — * Your son shall live, 

as I hope, to rejoice 
Mother and countrymen both, through 

patriot love and devotion.' 
Knowing that parting was near, we men 

stood facing each other: 
Animate soil of Kentucky and animate soil 

of our Green Hills — 
Strange metamorphosis that, of perishing 

elements earthly ! — 
Hand gripping hand, and the spirit of each 

leaping forth to the other 

Just for a moment. . . . 'Twas over ... I 

followed him into the office. 
76 



LINCOLN 

Hannah was left by herself in the anteroom 

where he received us. 
Passive she stood. Not a feature showed 

even a trace of emotion; 
But, as I turned to look back at her, won- 
dering, somewhat uneasy, 
Suddenly broke up the depths of her being : 

her motherhood's passion, 
Agonized love and despair, and gratitude 

mingled with worship, 
Vented themselves in a sob that shook her 

as wind shakes a poplar. 
Trembling in every limb she fell on her 

knees; ever lower. 
Lower she sank as she bent 'neath the 

mastering power of her passion. 
Till she lay prone on the spot whereon, but 

a moment before, 

77 



OUR BENNY 

Lincoln had stood and had spoken the 

mighty word of deHv'rance. 
Lo ! he was first at her side to aid her, to 

cheer and to comfort." 



Nothing was heard in the room save the 

tick of the clock in the corner. 
Silently falling, the tears coursed adown the 

cheeks of the grandsire. 
Noiseless, with wrestle of soul, the dominie 

fought his emotion. . . . 
Brokenly, feeling his way, their friend, the 

parson, continued: 
'* Verily, now is the time to show forth the 

manhood of Lincoln. 

He who considers the least with the greatest 

is ever the leader; 
78 



LINCOLN 

He who forgets not the Hnk that is weakest 

most surely will conquer; 
All his resources he gauges — his power of 

will to accomplish, 
Power of sword as of spirit, power of 

mind as of cable — 
Allf that in pressure and labor of ever 

momentous occurrence 
Even that link which is weakest shall bear 

well the strain of adjustment. 
See now, my friends, what he did, this 

Lincoln of whom I am telling! 
Quickly the papers were signed, the mes- 
senger sent on his errand. 
Naught left for Hannah and me but to wait 

all day long in the city. 

Wait for assurance that Benny was still 

in the land of the living! 
79 



OUR BENNY 

Meanwhile the morning wore on. In con- 
ference Lincoln was hourly 

Planning for this and the other; the mes- 
sengers coming and going. 

This that I tell you, as follows, was told 
to me twelve hours later: 

During the Cabinet meeting, assembled at 
noon in his oflSce, 

Lincoln was seen to grow restless, his hands 
working one with the other. 

Soon he appeared to be gazing abstractedly 
out of the window. 

Presently rising, he straightened himself, 
and, thoughtful, with sighing. 

Stood with his back to the window, his 
form 'gainst the blank silhouetted; 

Spoke 'neath his breath : ' I must go ' ; 

and then, to his councillors turning: 
80 



LINCOLN 

* Gentlemen, you will excuse me; I find I 

must drive to the outposts. 
Wliile we are planning together, the fate 

of a youth, a mere stripling 
Under death-sentence — an only son of his 

mother, a widow — 
Weighs on my heart. / confess I can hear 

and see naught but that mother. 
Midst all this turmoil, who knows if, in time, 

the reprieve may have reached him! ' 
Whereupon, short on his heel he turned and 

issued his orders; 
Ordered the horses, the swiftest; ordered 

the carriage made ready; 
Flung himself in with a word of command, 

or of prayer, to the coachman. 

Southward they bore, ever southward, mile 

after mile to the southward; 
81 



OUR BENNY 

Came to the outposts — the forts — the 

camp — the colonel's headquarters ; 
Found the boy saved through reprieve, 

yes, saved, and in truth, as by fire. 
For, when that message arrived, our Benny 

stood face to the muskets. 
Back to the ready-made grave in the soil 

that his ancestors fought for! 



" Friends, I have preached all these years 

humanity in the Divinely 
Human, but henceforth I preach how 

divinity, such as we know it, 
Dwelleth within the great soul of a man like 

our Abraham Lincoln — 

He, the exponent of brotherhood, type of 

America's noblest.'* 
82 



LINCOLN 

Silence again in the kitchen; the three were 
in deep meditation. 

Softly above in the bedroom — her footsteps 
were heard in the stillness, — 

Agatha went to and fro in sweet ministra- 
tions to Hannah. 

Slowly, with quavering voice, the grandsire, 
breaking the silence. 

Showed forth his spirit's contrition in words 
that are found in the Scriptures: 

*' * Lord, now thou lettest thy servant de- 
part hence in peace,' and," he added, 

*' Thankful of heart that his house has 
been saved from the stain of dishonor." 



Gently the dominie spoke, as he rose and 

went to the doorway, 

83 



OUR BENNY 

Standing awhile there to look at the sunset 

over the valley: 
" We who belong to the people, the race of 

the suffering Human, 
We who have known the deep meaning 

of sacrifice toiling and constant. 
Who with our hearts' blood are feeding the 

flame on Humanity's altar — 
Lighting the dark of the Ages, wherein are 

no Past and no Present, 
Sometimes with flickering gleam that 

seemeth to threaten extinction, 
Sometimes with wild-leaping fire that 

lights all the centuries' darkness — 
We know full well that each drop which 

feedeth the flame on this altar. 

Is, in the work of the Race, accounted equal 

in honor, 

84 



LINCOLN 

Each in itself emblematic of patriot love and 

devotion. 
Such is the meaning, to all generations, of 

Lincoln's great manhood. 
Centuries hence shall the glow of his flame 

on Humanity's altar 
Steadily lighten the Race, as it treadeth 

the devious pathways 
Leading to ultimate goal: a Union in 

Love — which is Freedom! " 
Straightway the parson drew near, and, 

laying a hand on his shoulder, 
Leaned both to look and to listen: a robin 

sang from the orchard; 
Down through the darkening valley our 

noble Connecticut River 
Glided majestic and free. The sunlight 

played on the hilltops. 

85 



V 

PEACE 



PEACE 

Peace! from the green-crested heights of 

Vermont to the shores of the level, 
Slow-swinging tides of the Gulf, to the 

cypress of swamp and of bayou. 
Peace on the slopes of the Blue Ridge, the 

plains of the swift Illinois. 
Peace ! and the earth-mother richer with 

blood of a million of brothers. 
Peace! and in homes of the millions the 

ashes of heart desolation. 
Peace! and yet wounds by the million 

that fester and burn in the living. 

89 



OUR BENNY 

Heralded Peace, who, at last, comes wan 
with waiting; all wraithlike 

Southland and Northland she roams, over 
mountains, o'er plains, through the 
valleys, 

Fearfully placing her feet, under which 
there should bloom only lilies. 

Lest unaware she might step on the number- 
less graves of the heroes. 

Lying in blue or in gray beneath the all- 
mantling earth-green. 

*' Finally, peace for us all," the dominie 
murmured devoutly. 

Drawing a long deep breath and letting it 
forth in explosive 

Power, as if from his shoulders the night- 
mare of War, horror-laden, 
90 



PEACE 

Loosed of a sudden her hold and left him 

freed of her presence. 
There on the postoffice steps he paused to 

look at his paper; 
Noted the date first of all, a world-date: 

the ninth of an April 
Promising much for the planting that cometh 

so late in our mountains. 
Noted the headlines, and then the lists of 

the dead and the wounded, 
Reading adown the long columns with 

glance both swift, comprehensive; 
Feared to rejoice prematurely lest some 

well-known name be among them. 
Lo! as he scanned the last column, just 

midway his eye was arrested — 

Eye not alone, for the blood e'en congealed 

for a moment its current — 
91 



OUR BENNY 

Dead! . . . The line blurred on his vision, 

and further he could not, or would not. 
Action, and action alone, could stir the 

chilled life-blood within him; 
Action alone could bring back his pupil, the 

pride of his manhood. 
Back from the banks of the James and the 

soil that his ancestor fought for; 
Back to his home and his mother, back to 

the hills of his birthplace. 
Back to the grave in the churchyard — the 

patriot's *' life everlasting." 



Straight through the village he passed, 

unheeding each glad recognition; 

Straight up the highway he strode, nor 

paused on the bar for a breathing; 
92 



PEACE 

Straight to the door of the farmhouse 

where Agatha stood in the sunshine 
Waving her hand, and, in wonder, marking 

the pace he was keeping. 
" Oh, you are welcome! " she cried; and 

then as he neared her, perceiving 
Signs of unwonted excitement: his Hps 

hard-set, yet the features 
Wrung with a fearful emotion, the sweat 

that ran from his forehead. 
Straightway her eyes opened wide, the 

pupils enlarging affrighted; 
Dimly foreboding the truth she stood there 

stock-still in the doorway. 
Only uplifting her hands, palms outward, 

as if in foref ending 

Blows that must fall and must shatter, 

ay, shatter forever and ever 
93 



OUR BENNY 

Idols of youth and of love — our woman- 
hood's nearest and dearest. 

White grew her lips and her cheeks as snow- 
drops that drooped in the dooryard; 

Scarcely a breath could she draw as the 
dominie, gently, but urgent, 

Laying a hand on her shoulder, passed with 
her over the threshold 

Closing the door on the spring — and a 
tragedy old as Life's drama. 



Spring in the hills of Kentucky, spring in 

the Cumberland Valley! 
Spring in the two Carolinas and deep in 

Virginian forests! 

Ever with hastening feet, with largess of 

joy universal, 

94 



PEACE 

Cometh glad Spring to the South, and 

tarrieth long in her Southland, 
Flinging her prodigal mantle — embroidered 

with jasmine and hawthorn, 
White with magnolia blooms and briUiant 

with Judas-tree scarlet — 
Over the teeming earth-mother that throb- 

beth with life at her coming. 



Slowly, with seeming neglect, our Spring 
Cometh here in the Northland, 

Coyly, with wilful caprice, now cold, now 
warm in demeanor; 

Hiding her shy, dainty grace from weather 
and winds that might chill her. 

Trailing her delicate garments along the 

edge of the meadows, 
95 



OUR BENNY 

Showing her fair winsome face where the 
ferns uncurl in the woodland, 

Vanishing wholly if wooed, but giving her- 
self when unsought for; — 

Thus comes the Spring to the North, the 
typical spring of New England, 

Comes with a grace all her own, and maketh 
of springtime a heaven 

Filled with the running of w^aters, the sing- 
ing of thrush and of sparrow. 

Laden with scent of the pine and the fra- 
grance of trailing arbutus. 



Thus in the year '65 came the spring to a 

Green Mountain valley, 
Blessing with bloom and with sunshine 

memorial day of Good Friday. 

96 



PEACE 

Deep in the woods, in the meadows, afar 

on the hillside the children 
Sought for the blossoms of spring : anemone, 

cowslip and mayflower; 
Gathered the myrtle, the ground pine — 

and all for the grave of their Benny. 
Early on Saturday morning, before the dew 

dried on the grasslands. 
Up from the village they fared : the women, 

the men and the children. 
All who had known him, had loved him in 

boyhood, in youth and young manhood, 
Gathered by groups in the churchyard to 

wait for the coming of Benny. 
Bared was each head, as the parson, preced- 
ing the little procession. 
Entered the wide-open gate, and stood with 

his friends by the maple 
97 



OUR BENNY 

'Neath which the flower-Hned grave was 

glowing with dehcate color. 
Service of church there was none, nor of 

creed or belief was there mention; 
Only the parson spoke briefly with rever- 
ence tender and loving: 
" Truly no service is needed to show forth 

our love for dear Benny, 
Him who hath died in his youth, whose 

living and dying were service. 
No, my dear friends, we are met here to 

lay him away 'neath this maple. 
Wrapped in the flag of his country; to say 

one short prayer, and one only. 
That which our Benny repeated when, first 

in the charge on the breastworks. 

Pierced with seven bullets he fell and knew 

he was mortally wounded. 
98 



PEACE 

Gallantly holding his own, for a minute of 

living and loving, 
Low, 'twixt the laboring breaths, he spoke 

to the comrades about him: 
* Boys — did I fall at the head ? . . . 

Thank God — it may blot out the — 

wretched 
Stain of my sleeping — on duty. . . . O 

Father in heaven, I beseech thee 
Guard him and guide him — sustain 

him — my President, Abraham Lin- 
coln 
Who, in his mercy, has saved me — for 

this — O bless him forever ! — ' 
Death interrupted that prayer; yet, he, 

being dead, still saluteth 

Us, and in spirit he biddeth us hope on, 

stand fast — and endure." 
99 



OUR BENNY 

Borne upon shuddering breaths, a solemn 

Amen responsive 
Broke on the soft April air like a sob from 

the hearts of the people. 
Slowly the church bell began to toll off the 

age of the hero, 
Stroke after stroke until twenty. . . . 

Scarce had its final vibration 
Ceased, ere there came from the village up 

on the run to the hillside. 
Breathless, a-tremble, the messenger boy 

from the station, and rudely 
Broke to an unwitting people the news of a 

nation's bereavement — 
Awful that blow! Had the sun, wheeling 

high in those clear April heavens 

Suffered eclipse then and there, and the 

face of all nature, distorted, 
100 



PEACE 

Sicklied and darkened, been changed 'neath 
the eyes of the people affrighted — 

Less were their terror, their horror, than 
that which portended the future. 

Blanched were men's faces; and, question- 
ing dumbly, they gazed at each other, 

Questioning mutely, despairing, the meaning 
of this to their Country ; 

Fearing their good Ship of State — which, 
battered, dismantled, had nobly, 

Grandly, her colors still flying, outridden 
the hurricane's madness — 

Failing to make in such darkness abysmal 
her home port, might suffer 

Shipwreck through loss of her faithful 
Captain when most he was needed. 

Dumb was their grief, their despair. . . . 

The church bell began to toll slowly. 
101 



OUR BENNY 

Over the hills, through the valleys, the 

sound of that bell in its tolling 
Echoed from valley to hill from morning till 

far into midnight; 
Ever its deep, mournful note, resounding 

afar in the mountains. 
Bore to the listening folk its message of 

direful import: 
Abraham Lincoln is gone, our Lincoln, the 

Friend of the People. 



102 



FEB E 1903 




m 



